


Just a Line In A Song

by turps



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:37:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started during the Summer of Like, will it survive the Paramour?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Line In A Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/gifts).



> Written for Turlough and posted originally at bandom_meme.
> 
> Warnings: Vague mentions of Pete's past suicide attempt.
> 
> Thank you to x_dark_siren_x for the look over.

“He should be admitted, there’s a hospital nearby, a good one. They’ll watch him.” Gerard’s voice is scratchy, exhaustion bleeding through and apparent over thousands of miles. “He’d be safe there.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Patrick asks, cutting into the spiralling cycle of words. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes dry and headache a constant. “There'll be food downstairs, you should go eat.”

“Not hungry,” Gerard replies instantly. The sound of him moving, a creaking floorboard, silence for a few moments and then, “He’s still sleeping.”

Patrick imagines Gerard peering into Mikey’s bedroom,

_\-- white sheets and machines, the scent of antiseptic swallowed down with each breath --_

too pale, eyes wide and red-rimmed, hair the tangled mess it becomes after days of neglect. “That’s good. You should sleep too.”

“Can’t.” Movement again, a slither and thump and Gerard not speaking,

_\-- adventure replaced by brutal reality. IVs and Pete’s mom, her face wet with tears. --_

“Gerard? Gerard?!” Patrick swallows back bile and grabs for his laptop, an airline booking page already loaded. “I can reschedule the tour, I’d be back the day after tomorrow.”

“I’m okay.” Gerard laughs, abrupt and brittle, a sobbed breath tucked in at one end. “I sat down, my legs stopped working.”

Skin crawling, Patrick keeps one hand held over the keyboard. “I’m booking a flight now.”

“No.” It’s an instant reaction, Gerard sounding clear for the first time. “You don’t have to. I want you here but no.”

_\-- Pete turning away, Patrick angry and scared and fighting back tears --_

“I’d do it,” and Patrick would. He'd piss off the promoter and see his name dragged through the virtual mud. “The others would stay here and do promo. Pete talks enough for two people.”

“Pete talks enough for the whole band,” Gerard says, and then, softer, “No way would he stay there.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Patrick agrees, knowing that already, Pete’s an impulsive decision away from flying home to help circle the masses. “He phoned Mikey last night. Hearing the entirety of our back catalogue spoken out loud was weird.”

_\-- voice wrecked from vomiting and tubes. words barely recognisable as Pete finally said, sorry --_

“I prefer you singing the lyrics,” Gerard says, and it’s no surprise that he heard at least some of Pete’s spoken vigil. “I should have done something before. I should have seen sooner.”

Patrick pulls back his hand and tucks his feet under the top sheet of his bed, trying to get warm. “You know it’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Gerard says in reply. A rote answer that Patrick doesn’t believe for an instant.

“Okay, so you know, but do you believe that?” There’s a difference. Patrick knows that too well. “Gerard?”

Finally, Gerard says, “He’s my brother.”

_\-- awkward conversation, a chair sticky with heat, Pete’s nails digging into Patrick’s back as he goes for a hug and holds on --_

And Pete was my best friend, Patrick thinks, but he won’t say it. Not now. Not ever. “Go and eat, Gerard. If you don’t I’m going to call Bob.”

“Tattle tale,” Gerard says, and for a moment he’s more present, enough that for the first time since making the call, Patrick can take a deep breath. “I’m going.”

“Good.” Patrick swaps the page on his browser, the schedule for the next week filling the page. “I’ll call you tomorrow, if you need me before that....”

“I’ll call,” Gerard says, and Patrick hopes that even if Gerard won’t, someone else will remember.

Patrick looks at his watch, and as much as he doesn’t want to, he has to hang up. “I need to go. We’ve interviews first thing in the morning.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, and then, “I love you, go get some sleep.”

“I will,” Patrick promises, the lie coming easy. “Love you, too.”

Patrick ends the call, his ear hot and hands clenched, taking a moment to just breathe past the collision of the past into the present.

He looks up at the sound of the connecting door opening, pushes his laptop to one side and makes room for Pete.


End file.
